


Dream’s Deterioration

by orphan_account



Category: Dream SMP - Fandom
Genre: Dream Smp, Other, Pandoras Vault, Prison, no beta we die like quackity in the control room
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-12
Updated: 2021-02-12
Packaged: 2021-03-18 08:27:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29365476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: After weeks in Prison, Dream starts to see himself paralleling the child he manipulated during exile.
Kudos: 57





	Dream’s Deterioration

Heat radiated off the obsidian walls, suffocating Dream. A loud swirling of molten lava encompassed his cage, his forever home, a permanent reminder that he could never leave.

He held a golden clock in his frail hands, his knuckles sore with open wounds. Evidently, once evaluating his surroundings, you could link this to the scratchings and marks in the wall from nights where he screamed and pounded on the cell so loudly that his voice went hoarse. 

Since when have my hands been so bony?

Life within the vault was not easy for Dream.  
Practically starved, all he had to eat were raw potatoes. The man who once luxuriated in steaks and golden apples, now restricted to such menial foods that provided him with no saturation at all. However with every visit he received, and it was very little, most people didn’t sympathise with him, Tommy especially. After all, he believed Dream deserved nothing less than torture.

Although the man had previously cut ties with everyone, when he was in the free lands of the SMP, he could still observe people, watch them talk and go about their daily life. He could even boss about an enderwalking Ranboo. It provided him with so much joy. But in here? All he could do is listen to the sizzle of fire and a clock that no matter how many times he keeps burning always returns.

And so, he understands it now. It first comes to him when he picks up the shards of his 14th clock so far, evaluating the man in the shattered glass, holding it to the light to truly catch a reflection.

Has someone come to visit me? How could I have not noticed?

But no, all he sees is a man in the same state - or even worse - as the young boy that he manipulated. His sage green hoodie torn, shoe missing from his ventures into lava almost perfectly mirrors Tommy during his exile, tattered and co-dependent with no reason to live.

Even the Lava. Dream remembers how Tommy would swoon over the lava beneath him in the nether. Dream would control Tommy down to his last breath, telling him that it’s just “not his time to die yet”. How Dream would leave Tommy on the island afterwards, a grin under his mask, joyous that he’d managed to break the boy further and further each day. He felt proud then, but look how it’s turned out for him now.

So now? He stares at the Lava too. He usually steps forwards into it, takes it even further, he swims. How funny that such a trivial thing for Dream at the time had turned into his own source of entertainment.

And so he screams bloody murder, blood curdling until his throat is sore dry, choking up copious amounts of blood as he burns.

One time he even breaks his lectern in a last ditch effort to escape. But all he does is make Sam angry, and that isn’t something he wants to do, especially with Sams new-founded protective nature over Tommy. Dream knows he’s dispensable now. The minute he stops becoming useful, he’s a goner, Sam can kill him and he’ll never cross anyone’s mind again. 

I don’t feel any regret.  
But still, I don’t want to stop existing yet.


End file.
